Today, I feel a profound sense of sadness. I woke up this morning to a message on my phone from Maiki. He had traveled by bus from his home in Arusha, Tanzania, to Nairobi, the capital of Kenya, with the intention of catching a flight from Nairobi to meet me here in Siem Reap.
When I applied for my visa, it was very straightforward. I uploaded my itinerary, flight details, and hotel reservations to the Cambodian E-Visa system, and within two days, they responded with the requested tourist visa. Maiki had the exact same documents as me since I had booked his flight and our shared accommodation at the same travel agent. He uploaded them to the E-Visa system but received a notice asking for his bank statement for the past three months. He provided that, but the system then said it did not accept his flight or accommodation details—the exact same ones I had provided.
I emailed the Cambodian Department of Immigration and asked if someone could help us. The response I received was confusing, as the person clearly didn’t speak English well and asked for my bank account details. Thinking about it now, that could have also been fraudulent. But to put it simply, roadblocks were put up to prevent Maiki from obtaining his visa.
I asked Thy and Tim for help, and Thy said he had a friend in immigration at the airport who could assist Maiki in getting a visa on arrival. He also implied that extra financial encouragement in the form of a large tip could help. I spoke to Maiki about this, and even though he comes from a country where that sort of thing happens frequently, he doesn’t like it and sounded uneasy about it.
The message he sent me this morning said he wasn’t going to travel to Cambodia because if he had to be repatriated, he would face two years in jail, and he just couldn’t take that risk. I understood completely and wasn’t going to make him feel bad about his decision.
The truth is, I feel bad. Because I am white, and this is a classic example of white privilege.
I immediately contacted Phil Hoffman Travel and asked them to cancel his flight and see if they could get a partial refund. I managed to do that just in time, as they told me they would let me know when they find out how much the refund will be.
I have since spoken to Thy and Tim about this, and Tim has said it is because the Cambodian government doesn’t like certain nationalities. But I don’t think it’s the nationality—I think it’s the region. Africa. Black Africa.
There is no other way to describe this than to say my friend Maiki was treated like a second-rate citizen. When I was talking to him about this, I felt like he has been betrayed by a global society that harbours racial bias—a society that makes assumptions and perpetuates stereotypes.
I feel like the government of Cambodia, or any other country that treats certain people like this, assumes they are going to overstay their visa or attempt to work because of their socio-economic situation in the first place. But what about your average person? In Maiki’s case, a hard-working PhD student who has a bank account with sufficient funds to support himself and a life to go back to in Tanzania?
Like I said, he has been treated like a second-rate citizen. I think we all remember days when significant events in our lives have happened. Well, I will remember today as the day I was repulsed by myself for being white—for having been given preferential treatment over my friend, who is such a genuinely good and beautiful soul.
I am not a crier. For some reason, I don’t cry easily, but I have felt like crying all day because I keep thinking about my friend feeling that, because he is Tanzanian—because of who he is—he can’t visit another country.
I’m 43 years old, I’m going back to art school next year, and I’m trying to write my first novel. I want a quiet and peaceful life, earning just enough money to quietly travel the world. That’s all I want. But I do feel a sense of responsibility to use my letter-writing skills to draw attention to the enormous injustice that has happened to my friend.
Talking about art school, I went to the art school here in Siem Reap this morning. It's called Artisans Angkor, and when we arrived, I was met by a guide who said he would show me around. The way the school is set up is that young people between the ages of 18–25 can apply to get a free education with them. In order to be accepted, they must be chosen and then pass an exam. They are then trained by the school and guaranteed a job afterward. They do all sorts of things, like wood and stone carving, gilding, weaving, and painting. With the carving in particular, the pieces they were making are very time-consuming, some of them taking up to a week. Below, you can see some photos I took of students around the art school.
I was particularly interested in the gilding. I love gold leaf, and I have started experimenting with gold metal leaf on my tiny cranes, with the goal of eventually making them into jewellery. Below, you can see a beautiful statue that has been expertly gilded.
I had a great guide. I didn't catch his name, but he wasn't a student or an artist—he was exclusively a tour guide for the school. He told me it is his dream to be a tour guide for the temples like Tim, and I think he'd be really good at it. He had the gift of the gab and a cheeky grin. Below, you can see him.
It was a relatively short tour of Bayon Temple, and after we had finished, we went back to Nerk Restaurant and had some lunch. While we were walking towards our usual table, I noticed a guide having lunch with the group of tourists he was looking after, and I was happy to see that.
After lunch, Tim and I went on a tour of the facilities at APOPO. APOPO is a Belgian non-governmental organisation and a U.S. non-profit that trains rats and dogs to detect landmines and tuberculosis. I never knew such a place existed, but this is a significant international organisation. The rats they train are southern giant pouched rats, and the dogs are technical survey dogs. The focus was on the rats, which they refer to as Hero Rats. It was such a coincidence that when she was talking about the rats, she mentioned they are trained in Tanzania! I would have loved for Maiki to be here to learn about these rats. Below, you can see photos of how the rats are on leads when looking for the mines, and how they are rewarded when they find one.
The handler bought the rat around to meet everyone.
